


Call me, call me

by Catharrington



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cocktober, Dry Humping, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ouija Board, Post Season 3, Rutting, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catharrington/pseuds/Catharrington
Summary: Billy ripped the chair out from under the table before sitting in it with a huff. “You gonna play, or not?” He antagonized.Steve, rolling his pretty eyes lined in pretty black liner, pulled out his own chair to sit.“How do we play?” Steve asked.Billy lifted his hands to the eyepiece, both of them hovering and only slightly touching the edge with his fingertips. Nodding towards the other side he left untouched for Steve to take. “Hands here,” he said and Steve did.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 107
Collections: Cocktober Prompt Meme





	Call me, call me

The steps to the basement creaked louder and louder each step underfoot. Billy curled his lips in a smirk as he listened to the footsteps following behind him. Slowly, timidly, hands out stretched searching the walls for purchase as he followed after the only source of light: Billy’s flickering candle. 

He held it close to his face, letting the orange glow light up his hastily applied makeup job. Red fake blood smeared all down his chin and neck, two long strips of fur acting as sideburns glued to his face also covered in the red. A pair of fake fangs already taken out and forgotten in his jacket pocket is what really sells the costume. Billy insisted he was Jack Nicholson from Wolf: mid transformation after he killed all those guys cold blooded. He’s wearing a college blue button up left open, a tie hanging untied, both of those dripping in fake blood. He felt untouchable as he walked into the party. Posturing just a tad. 

Most people loved the vulgarity of the costume, Robin had rolled her eyes. Steve laughed right along with her- but his eyes more so drifted down his chest than rolled. 

Billy considers it was big talk from two idiots dressed as matching French mimes. 

Steve came to the bottom of the steps. His hand lingering on the wall dropping heavy to his side. His eyes were drifting around the basement, surprisingly calm in the darkness. 

Billy turned to give him his full attention because Steve damn well deserved it. Hair swooped up and off his forehead, keeping clear of the white paint covering his face. It ended right at his pointed jaw line so it didn’t dirty up his thick, expensive ass looking turtleneck. He even had black kohl lined around his eyes. He even had cherry red lipstick painted over his plump, kissable lips. 

Kissable lips, Billy repeated back to himself three times over. Eyes not moving from Steve’s face. Time seemingly drawn to a hauntingly still halt right at those red colored bow shaped lips. 

“Billy?” Steve asked quietly. Breaking the moment. His lips turned in a smirk of his own. 

“Harrington,” Billy ground back. 

“What are we doing down here?” Steve sing songs, walking a little closer towards Billy. 

There’s a table in the middle of the basement. An old dark wood dining room table, flaking and splintering, six matching chairs circled around upholstered in burgundy fabric. Made ever more dark in the darkness. 

Billy curled one hand over the back of a chair, set his candle down with a glass click. A huge scented monstrosity from the living room above. Billy made off with it right when he decided to lure Steve down here. Flicking his zippo open to light the wick, enjoying the burnt vanilla scent more than he liked to admit. It sure matched the soft, timid smile Steve was giving him. Made the moment feel as if it were corrupting every sense Billy had. 

“Just wanna show you somethin’, pretty boy, think you’ll really dig it.” 

Steve scoffed at him. But still kept getting closer to the table. Billy ran his hands over the chipping wood. Rolled the bottom of the candle in a half circle. The movement of the wax made the light slightly brighter. Sunset oranges reflected off Steve’s white face paint. Pumpkin spiced dark orange reflected off his lips. 

Billy licked his lips. “I used to run with Priscilla Smith, spent a couple fun nights in this basement,” he nodded over towards an equally aging couch blocking view of the rest of the wide room. 

“Ew,” Steve screwed up his face, a cute sneer. 

Billy’s smirk widened. His cocky attitude feeding off it. “Yeah, weird girl, weird name, but she’s got a nice layout down here.” He hooked one finger in the air. Asking Steve to come closer. 

He did, walking to the chair right next to Billy, curling his hands over the back as if he were waiting to pull it out and sit. Such a good boy. 

“When did you even date Priscilla?” Steve praddled on, Billy acted like he wasn’t paying attention. Focusing on getting a cardboard box off the storage shelf behind him. “Wouldn’t you tell me stuff like that, Billy? Wouldn’t Max know? The kids should have eaten that gossip like candy-,”

“Wasn’t long,” Billy bit out, kicking himself for mentioning it all. “Only ‘bout a week. She started wanting me to spend the night. Calling me ‘baby‘. Wanted to cuddle.” He blew the dust off the box he was searching for. Pulled it off the shelf and slammed it down on the table, made more dust fog the already musty basement. 

“Started catching feelings- not my style, ya‘know, Harrington?”

Steve’s eyes flicked down from Billy’s eyes to his mouth, then down to his own hands gripping the chair. 

If Billy noticed anything, any disappointment, he kept his mouth shut about it. Rolled his eyes as he took the top off the box. Held the art on it up for Steve to read through the discolored text and aging grime. 

“A Ouija board?” Steve chuckled out. 

“Yeah,” Billy drawled, removing the board and setting it out for them. “Ain’t it fuckin sick?”

Steve examined him carefully. As the board was straightened, how Billy set the pointing piece right in the middle, how the light of the candle made it’s bleached white background glow around its black calligraphy letters. 

“Did you...,” he trailed off, his knuckles gripping the chair’s wood, “did you play this with Priscilla?”

“No,” Billy was relieved to see that gave Steve some relief. “Nah, not really her style. Figured it’s more up your alley, monster killer.” 

And that won him a smile, out the corner of Steve’s mouth just the slightest smug upturn of his lips. Those rose painted petal shaped lips turned up just for him. 

Steve reaches out to trace the edge of the board. Let’s his fingers go to the center and touch the eye piece. Feels the plastic that’s gone foggy with age. 

“Did you think about me a lot when you were with her, Billy?” he whispered. 

Billy ripped the chair out from under the table before sitting in it with a huff. “You gonna play, or not?” He antagonized. 

Steve, rolling his pretty eyes lined in pretty black liner, pulled out his own chair to sit. 

“How do we play?” Steve asked. 

Billy lifted his hands to the eye piece, both of them hovering and only slightly touching the edge with his fingertips. Nodding towards the other side he left untouched for Steve to take. “Hands here,” he said and Steve did. Gently resting his hands over the eyepiece. What sort of French mime doesn’t wear white gloves? Billy would have preferred he wasn’t so close to Steve’s skin. It’s cold outside in October but inside the party, in that ugly striped sweater, maybe after a few shots, Steve’s burning hot. 

“Now,” Billy said, as dramatically as he could. Eyes going from the candle light to Steve’s eyes. Big and brown and gorgeous. “We’re going to call up some spirits, some fuckin’ ghosts.”

He started spinning the eyepiece before Steve could say no. Those lips flubbed a little, and his brow was tight across his forehead, but Steve only bit down on his cherry red lower lip and kept his objections to himself. 

The board scraped as the plastic spun around in circles, whooshing and scrapping, Billy felt spider legs crawling up his spine from it. 

“Hello,” he breathed out into the empty basement. Letting the eye settle back into the middle. Both boys nervous where they hover over the edge. 

“Is there anyone here who would like to speak with us?” Billy kept talking. He watched the eye, then turned to Steve who was looking around the basement as if he could see something. 

“Is there anyone here who has passed on to the other side, anyone dead as a fuckin’ doornail, who wants to communicate?” Billy waited as he cracked that joke. Steve brought his eyes back and crinkled them with a little laugh. 

Then, the eyepiece shifted, scratching the board again as it shot towards yes. 

Steve shot away from the table, his hands going in the air and his chair going back an inch. 

Billy roared in laugher, clutching at his stomach. 

“You fuckin ass!” Steve hissed, low as if they were not alone, “you moved it, didn’t you?” 

Billy could only shake his head, still laughing. 

“Yes you did, Billy, you shit head!” Steve balled his hands into fists. 

Billy reaches for them, getting his hands around two thin wrists and pulling gently for him to sit back down. Surprisingly, Steve went with the motion. Settling back into the chair like a cat, wide eyed and ready to bolt. 

Billy doesn’t want to admit how adorable Steve looked like that, how much he wanted to take him into his arms and pet across his frizzled hair. But of course Steve’s hair wasn’t frizzled, and he knew better than to pet across it. 

“Wasn’t me,” he steadied his breaths down from his laugher. Talking much quieter now. “Let’s get back to it, yeah? We can ask more shit?” 

“Ask more shit,” Steve mocked back to him in a quiet high pitched voice. But he did, lift his hands up to feather light hold the edges of the eyepiece again. 

Billy let them settle, reveling in the uneasy glare Steve kept shooting all the corners of the room. Took a few long breaths before he started talking again. 

“Can you tell us your name?” Billy spoke low, spooky. “Spell it out for us?”

There was a moment of silence before the eyepiece quivered, before it moved again. Dragging across the board to the front of the letters. Moving in slow motion, stoping on one letter then down the row to another. Jerking back up again to the top row, spelling letter for letter an answer to Billy’s question. 

Steve watched horrified, his pretty lips falling open, brown eyes unblinking as he followed the eyepiece. Jumping letter to letter. 

Billy sucked in a breath as they realized it wasn’t stopping, only continuing to spell. So he started saying the letters out loud. 

“C-O-C-K-,”

“Oh fuck off, Billy!” Steve pulled his hands away again, his voice tinged in sharp anger and jingling laugher. 

“No, no, Harrington- check this out!” Billy moves his hands away too, but motioned with a wide swipe at the board. “This ghost says his name is cocksucker!” 

“No- the ghost doesn’t say shit! You are moving that!” Steve insists, his hands balled back into fists and now lifting to grip Billy’s shirt front. It’s open, the buttons showing off his chest heaving with laugher. Glossy with fake blood. Naked, and hot under Steve’s fingers. He heaves out breath after breath, trying to remember a normal rhythm. 

“Callin’ me a cocksucker, Harrington?” The words are cold. They almost don’t come from Billy’s lips, if he didn’t know he was the one who said them. If he hadn’t been thinking them in sequence all night. 

As if he hadn’t been loitering around Steve’s pretty cocksucker lips for the last year, his belt buckle sitting on narrow hips, not just at this damn party, as ghostly as he’s feeling in this dark basement. 

One breath in and one breath out, Steve releases his anger the next second. Going lax where he was straight up in his chair. His hands release the grip on Billy’s jacket, but only to lay limp across his chest. One hand searching his sculpted pecs, the other lighting resting against his throat. 

“Billy,” Steve breaths. It’s a warning. His eyes are darting around searching Billy’s face for threats in the same way he was searching the corners of the basement. 

Billy isn’t threatening, at least to Steve. He smiles wide, as nice as he can. Lifts his hands to run up the back of Steve’s elbows to cup the back of his biceps. Squeezes them and damn, his sweater is so soft. He’s such a prissy rich boy. Billy’s so gone for him.

“Harrington?” Billy breaths back on him. Just as quietly desperate. 

He pulls Steve by the backs of his arms closer. The chair’s legs make hideous scratches on the floor, but he can’t pretend to care. 

Not when Steve is this close. Not when he can smell the paint on his skin, and the meadow fresh shampoo in his hair. Not when he can see Steve’s eyes so big and round and pretty move from his own eyes down inch by slow inch to his lips. 

It’s a gentle lick of the flame when their lips brush past each other. Timidly, simply kissing. Steve tilts his head so his nose doesn’t poke Billy the second time. His hands lift to cup around his neck as soft as his lips press again. 

Billy takes what he can get, then pushes for more. His jaw cracks as he opens to lick a hot swipe across Steve’s lips. He shivers, Billy can feel the way Steve is shaking right under his hands gripping his arms. But still Steve does. He parts those cherry red lips that taste like lipstick easily. Letting Billy lick mean, hungry swipes of his tongue inside. 

Up across the pallet of his mouth. Twisting with the muscle of Steve’s tongue until a drip of spit comes out the side of their mouths. Feeling the way he’s warm, so damn warm, just like Billy dreamed. 

Steve pulls off to catch his breath. His mouth staying open, lips swollen twice their size under the abuse Billy gave them. Glossy, red, dripping with want. His lipstick smeared across his cheek and down his chin. Even some on the tip of his nose. Billy’s fake blood mixing as a darker thicker shade across that sharp jaw bone. He knows he must look the same. Maybe Billy even took some of that white makeup as a trophy. I did it, I kissed Steve Harrington and messed up his makeup, obviously it was me. 

“Billy,” Steve whimpers. 

His fingertips are tangled in the back of Billy’s hair. Pulling on the longest part of his blond curls, pulling him back in for another long kiss. 

Billy tightens his grip on Steve’s arms before using it to haul his ass off his own chair and climb on Billy’s lap. Steve does, goes right when he’s pulled, not even breaking their hungry kiss for a moment. 

They’re a tight fit in the old chair. Two thick wooden arms on either side. Steve folds his legs down to push his knees against Billy’s hips. His hips roll forward, inching himself closer and closer, rocking until his ass is flat on Billy’s tented slacks and his own hard cock trapped in his jeans is painfully pressed against Billy’s stomach. 

Steve is shameless as he bucks up, letting out another whimper as their lip lock finally breaks. 

“Oh my god, feels so good,” he dribbles out, his voice as shaky as his body still is. One hand tugging gently in tangled curls. The other moved to grip the back of the chair behind Billy’s head. Steadying himself as he struggles to breath. 

Billy has to look up to see him. Gets to see the way one steady drip of spit is taking the white paint down to mess up his sweater’s collar. Billy wants to lick it up, even when he knows it’s just going to taste like makeup.

He moves one arm around Steve’s waist to steady him, pull him even closer so they’re stomach to stomach. Steve’s clothed cock painfully trapped between. Rutting up into any friction he can get. 

Billy’s other hand lifted cautiously to trace along Steve’s lips. His fingers come back cherry red. 

“Pretty boy,” Billy whispers praise as if he’s trying to keep it unheard, “you’re so perfect, so fuckin’ perfect.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. His panting and bucking slow to a stop. He looks down to find Billy’s wide blue eyes fixed to him, the darkness can’t stop their sapphire brilliance. 

Billy blinks once, twice, tries to break the spell of Steve’s puppy dog eyes by looking back down to his ugly mime costume. 

Steve uses his grip on his hair to lift Billy’s head back up into another kiss. 

Then a knock, mean and rapid against wood. 

Steve pops back with a yelp, the only thing keeping him on the chair Billy’s arm. He rapidly looks around the room but no one is there, nothing there. Billy glances over his shoulder himself. 

Then the knock rings again and they both look up the steps at the door thankfully still closed. “Steve Harrington!” Robin’s voice cuts through the still moment of the basement knife sharp. “I’m drunk on vodka and I want to go home now, okay, best roommate?” 

“Yeah, okay! I hear you! Stay up there and I’ll be right up!”

Steve lets out an exhale of relief, followed by the cutest damn giggle Billy ever had the pleasure of hearing. He even slumps forward to nuzzle his nose into Billy’s neck. God, that feels really good. Billy runs both his hands up Steve’s back to feel the way the giggling moves his bones. 

“That’s my cue,” Steve adorably announces into Billy’s skin. “I promised I would drive back tonight.” 

Billy nods. Not moving his hands. Not wanting to let go quite yet. Only hums loudly enough he hopes it makes Steve’s skin vibrates as much as his own. 

“Billy,” Steve is pouting, “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later?” 

The request is high pitched, cute in the way he’s nervous about asking but still so expectant with a reply. Billy takes too long to reply, Steve’s face falls a little. 

“Or, I’m sorry, that not your style-,”

“Call me later,” Billy says matter of fact. Squishing whatever doubt that Steve might have in his fluffy head of hair quickly. “You better call me later, Harrington.” He tacks on. Because he remembers he isn’t a punk, isn’t catching feelings. Isn’t in love. 

Steve just smiles. Kissing him one last lingering suck on his lips before he leans back. 

Billy’s hand keeps itself wrapped for a second longer. He’s holding the eyepiece with the other, nodding towards it as if Steve should join. He does, one hand hovering over the plastic as they had before. Billy starts spinning it again. Round and around, before he lands the eye on goodbye. 

“Goodbye,” Steve says out loud like a dorky idiot. Billy pulls him close and kisses him rough one last time because he deserves it for that. 

They part with a sloppy pop. Steve stumbles off Billy’s lap and back on his own long legs. He doesn’t linger as he starts for the steps, hands out to feel for the walls as he starts to make his way up. Only glances over his shoulder once. His messed up makeup smeared across his pretty face a dream Billy commits to memory. 

The door opens and closes, Robin’s voice a shrill noise as she sees Steve. Starts asking, demanding, what he got up to. Steve’s only reply is a gentle “I’ll tell you later, let’s go home?”

Billy packs up the board and sets it back on the shelf where he got it. Picks up his candle that’s mostly burnt down, half the glass filled with a dark ember melted wax. He takes the steps slowly. Opens the door that’s heavy, creaking as he does it. Then blows out the candle flame.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so ‘wolf‘ the movie came out in 94 but like I know billy would vibe with it I know he would so let’s ~pretend~ it came out in 84 and Billy gets to live his life? Thanks 🖤  
> Thank you so much for reading! Have a happy October/ Halloween!


End file.
